Captured
by Jinx2016
Summary: Lestrade decides to visit Sherlock and John, but it ends up going all wrong. Will Lestrade and John save Sherlock or will he be lost forever?
1. Chapter 1

Snow battered and spun around London, howling with the wind through the night. The stars were barely even noticeable in this white blizzard. Usually Lestrade would have been home by now, but of course Donavan had to keep him at the Yard for extra hours to complain about you know who. Apparently he was up to the usual again and she was just sick of it. There really isn't anything he can do about it, though. Sherlock does what he wants. After finally calming her down he got to leave, only to find that he had left the lights on for his vehicle and the battery was dead. He had tried to get a cab, but with this weather nobody wanted to be out driving. That's when he came up with the idea to head for Baker Street; a place he knew he would be welcome.

Lestrade trudged up the steps to Baker Street on the cool winter night in London. He hoped that they wouldn't mind him dropping by. According to John's blog it they were on a puzzling new case. There wasn't much information yet, but what he has heard there were some criminals, selling illegal items. Sherlock apparently has been trying to find a good trail all week so Lestrade was sure that the bloggers wouldn't care if he got front row seats to the show.

Lestrade opened the door to the flat, not even bothering to knock. Both John and Sherlock somehow always know it's him entering. Maybe it is because of his footsteps or something. Whatever it is he wished he could do it. Think of how easier it would be to find out when the wife was coming in for a surprise visit. That was all just some hopeless dream though. There are only two great men in the world from what Lestrade believed and they were Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson.

"Hey, I heard you guys are on a new case-"Lestrade froze instantly. Papers were scattered all over the room, covering the floor. Photos were pinned on the wall above the couch and on the mirror above the fireplace. It looked like a tornado attacked the place. Lestrade's eyes scanned the flat until they fell on John, who was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace with fear bursting from his widened eyes. He was shouting frantically into the phone he held up to his ear. "John, what's wrong?" Lestrade asked. John stopped, staring at Lestrade in surprise. He must have not heard him come in. John pulled his phone from his ear and stared Lestrade in the eye.

"They got him, Lestrade, they got Sherlock," John slurred in a panicked voice.

"What do you mean they got him?" Lestrade asked, his stomach twisting. John pressed the speaker button on his phone and sound instantly filled the room. Rattling was what Lestrade heard first and then it was heavy breathing. "Sherlock?" Lestrade called, hoping that he wouldn't hear the detective's voice. He got his wish. He didn't hear Sherlock's voice but he did hear a pained gasp as the detective tried to move. Sherlock was injured; that much was obvious. Lestrade took in a shallow breath. This was not what he had had in mind for tonight.

Lestrade sat on the couch, listening to the sound of Sherlock struggling. John was sitting next to him, staring at the phone with the same look Lestrade had seen on his face the last time Sherlock had been captured. He wondered what was going on through John's head right now. How many times has he almost lost his best friend? The good doctor had told Lestrade everything. He had told him that he had been on the phone with Sherlock when several men that were behind the illegal items jumped the detective and forced him into the trunk of the vehicle. John had said that they had been following them all along. Lestrade had been biting at his nails the entire story. He couldn't stop the thoughts that ran through his head. What if they didn't just snatch Sherlock? What if they just shot him dead? At least they have a chance to save him, but if he had just been shot they may not have been lucky. What would John be like? Lestrade had seen him once too many without his best friend and there is no way he would be able to survive it again.

_Bang!_

Lestrade jumped at the sound of Sherlock smacking something through the phone, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Sherlock, stop, you could hurt yourself!" Lestrade shouted.

"I can't breathe," Sherlock's sickly voice stated, quickly. Lestrade stared at the phone in terror.

"What?" John instantly bit at his bottom lip and clutched his hands into fists, nervously.

"If I hit it hard enough I may be able to open the hatch of the car enough to let in some air," stated Sherlock, smacking the hatch again. Lestrade covered his face with his hands. This was not good. If Sherlock was injured, losing air and in a moving vehicle their chances of finding him would be slim.

"So then, Sherlock, are you injured? And don't say your fine because we all can tell that you are from all that gasping and groaning," Lestrade called into the phone. He heard a grunt from the other end and the sound of Sherlock kicking something.

"Yes," Sherlock hissed through his teeth. "My head, shoulder, ankle, and maybe a rib or two are bugging me." Lestrade was going to ask if he could be more specific, but he decided that they didn't have time to listen as Sherlock gave them a full diagnosis and asked then, "Can you give us some kind of clue vehicle is traveling?" There was silence over the other end.

"My attackers are driving through country now judging on the gravel smacking at the side of the vehicle." Sherlock croaked. He was breathing a little heavier now. "My phone's dying so you'll have to hurry, but you can track my phone just like we did for the pink lady." John instantly jumped from his seat on the sofa and grabbed his laptop, pulling up the phone tracer. After typing in the code to Sherlock's phone a little red spit blipped up onto the screen. Sherlock had been right. the vehicle was in the middle of the country side, traveling at an incredibly crazy speed.

"We have you, Sherlock, I promise we'll find you. Just hold on," John called into the phone, closing the laptop and dashing for the door, not even wasting time on grabbing his coat.

"Don't worry; I know you will," Sherlock croaked through the phone. Lestrade wished that they hadn't said those things to each other. It only made him feel like they had jinxed every chance they had. He had to have hoped, though. Just like Sherlock had in John and John had in Sherlock.

* * *

**I was bored tonight and didn't feel like working on any of my stuff for my other stories so i wrote a new one. there is only going to be two chapters and i'll have the last one up tomorrow along with the second chapter of 'The Dream of a Madman' for those of you who are interested in reading it. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

Lestrade had decided that he should drive and let John navigate and keep talking to Sherlock. The detective barely spoke now as Lestrade finally made it out of London and into the calmness of the country side. The only way he could tell that Sherlock was still alive at the other end of the phone was from his breathing. John was talking away, trying to reassure Sherlock that everything was alright, but Lestrade could tell by the shakiness in John's voice that his hope was slowly depleting. Lestrade didn't blame him, but he was just a tad angry that John would be giving up so early. He didn't say this out loud. He knew that John must have his reasons and just left it at that.

"Take a right here," John stated, pointing ahead. Lestrade nodded, quickly following John's instructions.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade called out to detective, deciding that maybe he should try to help keep up the detective's spirits as well. He heard a raspy cough and then a small moan from the other end of the phone, sending his heart into clenching fit. Now he had a feeling he knew why John seemed so unhopeful. That was definitely not what the usually strong Sherlock Holmes sounded like. This sounded like a completely defeated version of the great detective. "You just hang on a little longer. According to this we should be right on top of you soon enough," Lestrade informed him.

"I'll-" the phone suddenly died and the red dot on the computer disappeared, leaving a tense silence in their place. John took in a shaky breath.

"Looks like we're on our own now," John sighed, running a hand through his hair. Lestrade patted the doctor on the shoulder while keeping one hand on the wheel.

"We're close, John, We'll find him," Lestrade stated. John managed a small smile and then stared out into the pure white area. Lestrade did the same, but as soon as he did so he slammed his foot down hard against his brake. They both sucked in a breath as the car skidded into a twirl and smacked the vehicle that was in front of them. Lestrade clutched at the wheel, gritting his teeth as they twirled. Wheels squealed and metal scrapped against the pavement, causing a sick feeling to bubble up inside Lestrade's stomach. Right on top of him had been right. Lestrade and John closed their eyes tight until everything suddenly grew still. Finally, the vehicle slammed into the ditch. Lestrade looked over to John, who was a little cut up from the broken glass. He looked alright, but his eyes were staring out the window, searching for the car that was keeping Sherlock prisoner. Their eyes scanned the area until they noticed the side railing for the bridge just up ahead was torn open. Their eyes flew down farther into dried up snow covered river bed to see crunched up metal smoking and burning. What was left of the car was on its side and the back was completely crushed. Again, Lestrade felt ill.

"No, Oh God, Please no!" Lestrade felt himself cry out as he yanked at his seat belt. Both he and John erupted from the vehicle and ran to the one that had been carrying their friend.

"Sherlock!" they both cried out. There was nothing, just the howl of wind. John smacked his fists against the bashed in car. Lestrade grabbed a chunk of metal and started using it as a crowbar, praying that Sherlock was alright.

"STOP!" John shouted, pulling at a blue fabric poking out. John had it just about out when he saw the entire other half of it shredded into ribbons. Lestrade grabbed John as his knees buckle at the sight of the scarf. His eyes were glistening with tears as they began to betray his will to stay strong. Lestrade set John on the snow covered road and began pulling at the crushed in door shouting,

"You Bastard! Don't you dare leave us again! Come on, Sherlock, speak! Don't do this to us!" Lestrade rested his head against the crushed car and stared at the shredded scarf that now blew gently in the wind. Too late once again.

"Please don't leave me again, Sherlock," he heard John whisper silently to the scarf.

"You'll pay for that!" snarled someone from behind. John and Lestrade whirled around, coming face to face with a man covered in tattoos and a crushed nose. He was holding a gun right at them now. "You just lost me my partner, cargo, and my hostage," he hissed, slowly squeezing the trigger. John and Lestrade stared down the barrel of the gun. They reached for theirs, but found that they were gone. They must have left them in the car! Lestrade sucked in a breath. They were doomed.

_Bang!_

Lestrade flinched, but felt no pain. He glanced over at John, but he was just looking as confused as him. Slowly they both looked up at the man who had been threatening him only to see blood spurting from his chest. They frowned at the wound. They didn't shoot so who did?

"Aren't you two the ones who are supposed to be saving me?" Sherlock asked, limping out of the distance, clutching a weapon. It wasn't his. It looked more like the one their attacker had been threatening them with. He must have snatched it from the dead partner when he had the chance. Lestrade stared at him in relief and John bolted from where he had been sitting, tackling the detective with a hug. Sherlock cringed, but returned John's embrace.

"You're a brilliant fucking idiot, you know that?" John swore, staring at Sherlock with a relieved smile on his face. Sherlock laughed and nodded.

"Yes, I do believe I've been told that many times before." Lestrade then rushed over, hugging the detective as well. Sherlock's wrists were cut up from where his bounds had rubbed against the skin and by the looks of it he had a broken ankle and a nasty cut on his head, but that was way better than being dead.

"How did you escape?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock smiled at him and stated simply,

"I told you I was trying to get that hatch open. Let's say that it opened at just the right time." Lestrade clapped him on the shoulder laughing,

"Got that right! We thought you were crushed!" said Lestrade while staring at the men that lay dead around the smoking vehicle. John let out a long sigh, letting his nerves calm.

"Looks like another case solved," John sighed.

"Great, now we can sit at home in this blizzard bored to death," Sherlock snorted while running a hand through his wild hair.

_Ring!_

Lestrade reached for his phone. Great, who could this be? Didn't they understand what day off meant anymore back at the Yard? Nevertheless he answered the phone, putting it on speaker phone.

"Lestrade, we've got a murder over here and we need you," Sally's voice called from the other end of the phone.

"Oh, no, Sherlock," Lestrade shouted, noticing the grin growing on Sherlock's face. Sally's voice swore a couple times at the mention of her greatest enemy, but she stayed silent. Lestrade carried on shouting, "You're injured. I can't let you come with me on this one." Sherlock frowned at him and then rapped an arm around John.

"I'll be fine as long as I have my blogger. Anyway, you need me," Sherlock simply stated. Sally sounded like she was about to argue, but both Sherlock and John managed to shout a shut up to her before she had the chance.

"Well?" Lestrade asked, looking at John. The good doctor looked over Sherlock for a few seconds.

"We need to get his head and leg taken care of, but yes, I believe he'll be able to suffer through it for a little if you're alright with us joining you that is," John stated. Lestrade stared back at the detective as he gave him that same puppy dog face that has gotten him on almost every case they've had and let out a long sigh.

"Sally, come pick us up we're at the old bridge," Lestrade shouted into the phone before hanging up on her. He glared down Sherlock's icy blue eyes and informed him quickly,

"Fine, Sherlock, you can come, but if you get captured-"Sherlock held up a hand to silence him and stated with a small chuckle,

"I'll make sure I have you two at my side."


End file.
